The Magnificent Masquerade Part 4

"She told me it's her traveling dress," Naismith said, his voice tinged with revulsion.

"Then she should've changed into 'er service garb before presentin' herself to us," the woman said, equally revolted. Kitty, removing her offending headdress, remembered that Emily had brought no clothes with her and that nothing in any of the boxes she'd just unpacked was at all suitable for a servant to wear. She looked from one to the other in alarm. "But I ... I have no other dress," she admitted. "No other dress? Didn't Lady Birkinshaw give you a maid's black't' wear at Birkinshaw House?"

"No, ma'am."

"What sort o' housekeeper does Lady Birkinshaw employ?" Mrs. Prowne asked in rhetorical disapproval. "I'm housekeeper here, and though we're miles from London and her ladys.h.i.+p permits a bit o' informality here in the country, Iwouldn't dream of lettin' the lowest o' the sculleries run about without a proper black on 'er back."

Naismith shook his head. "I told you, Mrs. Prowne, that Lord Birkinshaw must be a ramshackle sort-"

"He is not!" Kitty declared. "I don't have a 'black' because I don't come from Birkinshaw House. I come from the MarchmontAcademy where Em-I mean where I was ... er . maid-of-all-work. When Lord Birkinshaw wrote that he wanted an abigail to accompany his daughter, Miss Marchmont let me come."

Naismith's eyebrows rose. "A maid-of-all-work? You mean you're not Miss Jessup's true abigail?"

"Miss Jessup doesn't have a true abigail. She's been away at school since she was thirteen."

The butler gave the housekeeper a knowing glance. "Maid of-all-work, eh? That explains it, then. This creature is ...well, almost an impostor."

"Or at best a waif without a bit o' proper trainin'," Mrs. Prowne said, sewing away placidly. "No wonder she's a wild one."

"And makes so free with her tongue." Naismith rubbed his -chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I'd best recommend to his lord s.h.i.+p that we engage someone else to wait on Miss Jessup."

"Engage someone else?" Kitty felt the blood drain from her face. "Do you mean you'll ... sack me?" Naismith didn't deign to respond, but the housekeeper shrugged. "Well, after all, child, you 'aven't been schooled proper-'

"I've been in school since I was nine!" Kitty cried. "This is EdgertonPark, girl," the butler stated magisterially. "Edgerton isn't to be compared with your piddling school! We can't have someone on our staff who's never served in a n.o.ble house."

"But you can't sack me!" Kitty declared in desperation. "You don't know what that would-" She stopped her tongue abruptly. She knew she had to be very careful in what she said. If her plan was not to collapse here and now, she had to f i nd the right words to convince these two to keep her on, not only as a member of their staff but in the position of abigail to "Miss Jessup." The situation was indeed desperate, but desperation made her mind race double time. Her powers of invention, stimulated as always by danger, began to go to work. "You have no right to sack me," she pointed out with blithe confidence. "It was Miss Jessup who engaged me, and she wouldn't permit it."

"Oh, pish-tush," the housekeeper said. "Miss Jessup'd probably enjoy havin' a more experienced maidserv-"

"She wouldn't! I'd wager a guinea she'd have a tantrum! After all, she chose me herself. Do you think she'd be pleased to have you override her choice?"

The housekeeper c.o.c.ked her head thoughtfully, looking like a black-eyed, white-crested bird. "The chit may 'ave a point in that, Mr. Naismith. She just might 'ave a point there."

The butler's brow knit. "Yes, she might at that. If Miss Jessup engaged the girl herself, I can see that she might very well object."

Kitty leaped at her advantage. "Of course she'd object. Very fond of me, she is. Very fond. I do her hair for her every day at school, you know."

"Do you indeed?" Naismith muttered dryly. "I hope you do it better than you do your own. Well, this is a situation, is it not, Mrs. Prowne?"

"Aye, indeed, Mr. Naismith. It seems we do 'ave a situation 'ere."

Kitty looked from one to the other in confusion. "What situation?"

"It isn't as if a lady's personal abigail is like an ordinary housemaid, you know," the butler muttered, half to himself. "No, indeed not, Mr. Naismith," the housekeeper agreed. "No indeed. An abigail's quite a bit superior, especially to a maid-of-all-work."

"I don't see how we're to manage it." He rubbed his chin speculatively. "This creature would have to sit above the housemaids at the table. She'd have to be the equal of our Miss Leac.o.c.k."

"Miss Leac.o.c.k?" Kitty asked, puzzled.

"She's dresser to 'er ladys.h.i.+p. And to Miss Alicia, when she's feelin' up to gettin' dressed. Comes from London, Miss Leac.o.c.k does. She used't' dress the Countess Trevelyan be fore that poor lady pa.s.sed on. Very genteel, Miss Leac.o.c.k. You never could pa.s.s as an equal to 'er."

"I could try," Kitty murmured, feeling more chastened than ever before in her life. She didn't dream, when she'd plunged into this adventure, that she'd find herself deficient in-of all things!-the proper qualifications for the post of abigail. The butler circled round the stricken girl, observing her from all angles. "She wouldn't be bad-looking if she tied back that hair."

"And a proper black bombazine would do wonders. Here, girl, try on this cap." The housekeeper made a few last st.i.tches, snapped the thread neatly with her teeth, and handed the lace-trimmed mobcap to Kitty.

"Thank you," Kitty said humbly, hastily tucking as much of her hair into the cap as she could. "There! Will I do?"

Both the butler and the housekeeper circled her this time.

"With the bombazine, she'll look a bit more suitable," Nai smith said somewhat dubiously.

"And with 'er hair in a proper braid," Mrs. Prowne agreed. "After all, she'll be with us only for a fortnight," he added, consoling himself.

"And if any of the maids object to 'er place at table, we can always say she's guest-staff-not really one of us a-tall."

The butler nodded. "Very well. Take her away and get her dressed. And do it as quickly as you can, Mrs. Prowne, for she should be seeing to Miss Jessup's toilette by this time."

"Aye, Mr. Naismith, it won't take long. Come along, girl, follow me."

As the housekeeper (so tiny in stature that she made Kitty feel tall) hurried down the stone steps with Kitty close behind, the butler turned to his table and poured himself a brandy. He took a large swig, rolled the liquor round his mouth, swallowed, and sighed deeply. Then he leaned over the railing. "You, girl," he barked down at Kitty who was just disappearing from his view, "remember that you're employed here through my graciousness. So try not to do anything-or say anything-to make me sorry!"

Kitty merely nodded and continued on her way. The butler looked up at the vaulted ceiling in disgust. "I'll be sorry," he muttered to the G.o.ds above who were forever trying to do him in. "I can wager his lords.h.i.+p's best brandy on it. That girl'll make me sorry."

Chapter Eight.

Kitty appeared at Emily's door twenty minutes later in full housemaid regalia. Her hair was pulled tightly back and braided in one firm plait, her head was topped with the frilled cap, and all the rest of her was clothed in a black bombazine dress trimmed with the primmest white collar and cuffs and covered by the most stiffly starched ap.r.o.n either of them had ever seen. Emily gaped at her for a moment and then burst into laughter. "Oh, it's you, Miss Jessup," she managed to say between giggles. "I almost didn't recognize you!" "Hus.h.!.+ Do you want someone to hear?" Kitty hissed, closing the door quickly. "1 told you never to call me that! I'm Emily, remember!"

"I'm sorry, miss. It's not easy to change the habits of one's lifetime."

"I know," Kitty agreed ruefully. "I almost found myself dressing down the butler."

"Really?" Emily's dimpled smile appeared again. "What did you say to him?"

"I started out by asking him-in my best lady-of-the-manor voice, mind you!-if he was always so rude to guests, but he quickly put me in my place, saying in the most pompous way imaginable, "Since when, young woman, is an abigail to be considered a guest?"' Kitty imitated his nasal intonations to perfection and even aped his manner of turning up his doleful eyes to the heavens.

Emily collapsed in laughter on the bed, and Kitty joined in, perching on the edge. But she recovered herself quickly, realizing that they didn't have much time. "Really, Emily," she said, turning serious, "whatever possessed you to spend the afternoon making tisanes? You've got to learn to stop doing for people."

"Was it wrong of me to do so?" Emily asked, her elongated dimples disappearing with her smile. "It took only a few moments, and when Alicia began to feel better, Lady Edith was so grateful."

"Was she? Then you must be playing your part very well." Kitty eyed her with a touch of envy. "And a great deal better than I am."

Emily shook her head. "I don't know, Miss Jessup. Lady Edith seems pleased with me, and her daughter, too, but his lords.h.i.+p has several times stared at me with a puzzled expression, and he's remarked more than once that I am not quite what he expected."

"Oh, no, has he really?" Kitty got up and began to pace about worriedly. "Did he say in what way?"

"Not exactly. Though he did tell his mother before we arrived that he expected you ... me ... you to be hoydenish."

"Hoydenish?" Kitty stopped in her tracks. "He called me hoydenish?" Her cheeks reddened angrily. "What effrontery! Whatever gave him that idea?"

A bit of dimple showed itself in Emily's cheeks. "I can't imagine," she said almost seriously.

Kitty caught the glint in the other girl's brown eyes and instantly realized how foolish she'd sounded. Her anger subsided at once. "Very well, I am hoydenish," she admitted with a -sheepish grin. "I admit it. But I don't see how it's become known to the world at large. I suppose my father told him so."

"Probably so," Emily agreed.

"Well, never mind. You'll show him that Kitty Jessup can behave like the most ladylike creature in the world. Come, let's get you dressed for dinner."

Emily obligingly shed herself of her traveling dress while Kitty, in proper abigail manner, undid the b.u.t.tons of the gown she'd laid out and helped Emily into it. However, when Emily remarked that Toby Wishart was expected to arrive for dinner, Kitty promptly raised it up again and pulled it over Emily's head. "In that case, you must wear something more enticing. Here. Let's try the lavender crepe with the silver threads. That should catch his eye."

Emily complied, but she didn't understand Kitty's motives. "Why should I be enticing?" she asked. "You don't want him to like me, do you?"

"Why not?" She led Emily to the dressing table and began to brush her hair. "The more he likes you, the less likely he is to like me when the truth of my. ident.i.ty is finally revealed. Oh, dear, I'm all thumbs at this. You'd better do your own hair. You're so much handier than 1."

Emily took the brush. "You did your braid very well. I don't think I could have done it better."

Kitty shrugged. "Mrs. Prowne plaited it. She's the housekeeper, you see, and she was given the task of turning me out. But I'm sure she'll expect me to braid it myself tomorrow, and you know what a botch I'll make of it then. However, we can't concern ourselves with that now. Here, I'll pin the bun for you. There, that's lovely. Just let the curl hang over your shoulder, so. Good. Now stand up and let me adjust the neck line of your gown. I think you should show a great deal of decolletage, don't you?" And she proceeded to pull the neckline down so that the upper curves of Emily's b.r.e.a.s.t.s were visible. Then she carefully pinned the decolletage in place with pins that Emily supplied.

By the time all was done, the hour was quite advanced. Emily nervously remarked that the entire household might already be awaiting her arrival downstairs. "I'd better go. Do I look presentable?"

Kitty studied her carefully. "Yes, I think you look-oh, no!"

Emily blanched. "What is it?"

"Your boots! You can't wear those dreadful boots with an evening dress. Quickly, take them off. Where are my black slippers? Did I put them in the cupboard there?" She rummaged through the shelves wildly, tossing things about in careless haste. "If I can only find them, we can stuff the toes with a couple of handkerchiefs and they'll do well enough. Now, where-?"

But it was Emily who found them, and it was Emily who found the handkerchiefs, too. At last she was ready. But she couldn't bring herself to go. The room was terribly untidy, and she'd been trained not to ignore dishevelment. "I'd better do something about this jumble," she said, looking about her un easily.

"Don't be silly. Get along with you," Kitty urged.

"I suppose I'd better. I'll put things back in place when I return."

"You'll do nothing of the kind, Miss Jessup," Kitty declared. "Who's the abigail here?"

Emily didn't argue. If she had to play her role, it was only fair that Kitty play hers. And keeping the room neat was part of Kitty's role. "Very well," Emily said, "I'll go. There's only one thing more I'd like to do." And she turned to the tall mirror that stood in the comer. She hadn't had time before, but surely she could take a moment now, she decided, to take one quick glimpse.

She looked into the mirror and gasped. Surely, she thought, the creature in the gla.s.s was someone else entirely. The silky dress with its silvery threads sparkling amid the lavender clung to a form that appeared to her to be more mature and shapely than her own. Her hair glowed with auburn highlights that she'd never noticed before. And her cheeks, which had always seemed to her to be too full and pasty-pale to be pretty, now glowed pink with excitement. But what really reddened them was the sight of her half-exposed bosom. "Goodness, Miss Jessup, you can't mean me to appear so ... so naked!" she exclaimed.

"You look breathtaking," Kitty insisted. "And dash it all, stop calling me Miss Jessup!"

"But I thought you wanted me to be ladylike," Emily objected, tugging embarra.s.sedly at the neckline.

Kitty thrust her hands away. "I do want you to be ladylike. Ladylike, not prudish." She surveyed her handiwork one last time. "You look absolutely splendid. Don't be goosish, just go." And she took Emily by the shoulders and thrust her out the door.

Emily hurried down the staircase, fearing with every step that she'd trip over the extended toes of the ill-fitting slippers. But no such accident occurred. She made the last turn of the stairs with a sigh of relief.

At the bottom of the stairway she found two footmen awaiting her. "This way, miss," one of them said and led her toward the drawing room.

"Has everyone come down already?" she asked as she hurried after him.

"I believe so, miss," was the impa.s.sive answer.

They arrived at the drawing room door. She could hear voices within, and as the footman was about to throw open the doors, she heard a burst of masculine laughter. For some unfathomable reason, that sound caused her courage to fail her. "Wait!" she ordered the footman. "Wait just a moment."

"Wait, miss?" He eyed her with a tinge of surprise. "Yes. Just a moment." She turned her back on him, looked down at her exposed chest, and flinched. Quickly, and as surrept.i.tiously as the situation allowed, she removed the pins from the decolletage. She returned the neckline to its normal, modest position, tugged the shoulders of the gown in place, and turned back. "Here," she said to the footman in as imperious a tone as she could muster (hoping that her toplofty man ner would mask her discomfiture), "get rid of these pins for me."

The footman blinked. "Pins, miss?"

"Yes, pins. Have you never seen pins before?" And with a toss of her head, she grasped his hand, opened his gloved fingers, and dropped the pins into his palm. Then she gave a last pat to her hair. "There, now," she announced, turning to face the doors, "I'm ready."

Chapter Nine.

"Ah, there you are," Lady Edith clarioned, crossing the room and kissing Emily's cheek. "You've only just enough time before dinner to meet Toby and drink your sherry."

"What Mama means," laughed a good-looking young man, rising from a chair at Emily's left, "is that you're tardy but not so late as to need to beg forgiveness."

"Oh, dear," murmured Emily, looking about her in confusion, "am I late?"

"Not at all," said Lord Edgerton, also rising to greet her. "You are as punctual as a lovely young woman can be expected to be. My brother, who has just arrived six hours later than he should have, is a fine one to be lecturing on punctuality." He struck the boy lightly on the shoulder. "Come and make a leg to Miss Jessup, you mooncalf. Miss Jessup, may I present my brother, Toby Wishart?"

The young man made a deep, wide-armed bow and grinned up at her. "Your servant, miss."

Emily felt herself flush without understanding why. The young man's extravagant bow was obviously a teasing response to his brother's formality, but there was no reason for her to feel embarra.s.sed by it. As she bent her knees in a responding curtsey, she studied the young man carefully. He was certainly attractive. Shorter than his brother, he was nevertheless quite broad-shouldered and manly. His dark eyes glinted with humor, his large mouth seemed to twist naturally in a warm smile, and his head was covered with a richness of tight, dark curls. Emily couldn't help thinking that Kitty Jessup-as soon as she set eyes on him-would regret what she'd done. But, for now at least, there was nothing Emily could do but continue to play the game. "How d-do you do, my lord," she said shyly.

"I shall do better with one more sherry," the young man said, turning to the footman who was hovering about behind him, plucking two gla.s.ses from the tray and offering one to her.

"That, at least, was nicely done," his brother muttered in his ear. Then, taking Emily by the arm, Edgerton led her across the room. "I hope you noticed, my dear," he said to her admiringly, "that your medicinal talents have had a beneficial effect on my sister. Here she is, fully dressed and with an appet.i.te for dinner."

He led her to the armchair where Alicia, a pale, very thin woman of thirty years. sat huddled in a shawl. Though Emily had met her earlier, she hadn't been able to see her properly, for at that time Alicia had been covered to the neck by blankets. Now that she was able to take a good look at her, Emily couldn't help thinking that the little girls of Miss Marchmont's lower school would find Alicia the embodiment of their image of a spinster. Her posture was hunched, her fingers long and bony, her lips thin, and her hair (a nondescript brown) was tied back in so tight a bun that not a curl or tendril was permitted to escape to soften the gray planes of her face. In addition, she'd chosen a dress of so drab a puce that it emphasized her colorlessness. Nevertheless, as soon as Emily came up to her, Alicia managed a smile. "I must thank you again, Miss Jessup, for what you did for me this afternoon. Dr. Randolph stopped in to see me earlier this evening and was quite astonished at my improvement."

It amazed Emily to see how much that smile warmed Alicia's expression. "I'm so glad," she responded, sitting down on a ha.s.sock beside Alicia's armchair. "I'll tell Miss Marchmont, when I get back to the academy ... that is, I mean, when I next pay her a visit ... that her licorice tisane is every bit as efficacious as she believes."

"Good G.o.d, we're not going to sit about here in the drawing room talking about tisanes, are we?" Toby asked, downing his drink.

"No, we're not," Edgerton said, throwing his brother a took that warned him he was verging on rudeness. "Here's Naismith to announce dinner. Mama, let me have your arm. Toby, I shall give to you the honor of escorting both your sister and our lovely guest to the table. Now, shall we go?"

The dinner was served at a table long enough for at least a dozen diners. With Edgerton at the head and Lady Edith at the foot, Emily, Toby, and Alicia were seated quite far apart. Thus it was almost impossible for conversation to be intimate. For a while, nothing was said except about the food. Lady Edith admired the fish soup, explaining to her guest that it had been "prepared a la Russe, you see, Miss Jessup, to give it that distinctive flavor."